


Five Minutes Later

by ranguvar82



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, inspired by the lockdown video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Aziraphale stared at the receiver in his hand, frowning.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Five Minutes Later

Five Minutes Later

Aziraphale stared at the receiver in his hands, wondering just what the Hel...Heav...Earth he’d been thinking. The entire phone call, he’d been not so subtly encouraging Crowley to go out and make some trouble, but the second the demon offered to come over and share(well, watch him eat) cake with him, Aziraphale suddenly had balked. He sighed, running his hands over his face.

The thing was...the thing was, it was still so hard, even almost a year later, to believe that they were both truly Safe, that Heaven and Hell had left them alone. Aziraphale had grown so used to their dance that he knew the steps by heart now.

Was that why he was so very scared of moving forward? Someone knew that he did love Crowley rather a lot, but he was still so very nervous. He’d spent 6,000 years loving him from afar(though the admittance that yes, this was Love with a capital L didn’t happen until that night in 1941) that the sheer idea that maybe, just maybe he’d be able to do more was overwhelming.

The angel looked around his shop, which was covered in the detritus from his various baking experiments. Aziraphale thought it had all gone rather well, truth be told. Okay, so he had a few disasters in the beginning-his first attempt at bread had come out black and tasting vaguely of coal-but he was rather proud of himself that the only miracle he’d used was getting the cherries for the Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. That had come out rather well, he thought. He nicked a cherry from the top, popping it into his mouth.

Idly, he wondered if those poor men that had broken into his shop the other night had been able to do something with the mounds of cake he sent them home with. It had been rather a lot, and they both looked as though they needed some good food.

A ding sound pulled him out of his thoughts, and he went back to his kitchen, pulling a rather lovely Victoria Sponge out and setting it on the rack to cool before he frosted and decorated it. That was another thing he’d gotten rather good at. And it was merely coincidence that he favored red and black frosting over white. Really.

He swiped a finger through the Charlotte Russe sitting next to the lemon meringue pie and abruptly came to a decision. Rules be damned.

He strode back up front and picked up the phone, not even bothering to dial.

‘’Lo?”

“Crowley, listen, I am sorry about what I said, it’s just...”

“’S not a problem, Angel. Really.” Aziraphale could hear the warmth in his best friend’s voice.

“Well, look, I’d hate to think of you all alone in that flat, and I did bake rather a lot of cake, so...if your invitation to, err… ‘slither on over’ still stands, I...well, I would love some company.”

“I’ll be over in five minutes.”

Aziraphale replaced the receiver, grinning. It was a start, at least. Maybe someday he’d work up the courage to say ‘I love you.’

Still grinning, he went to find some glasses.


End file.
